in such places that the mind is apt to dwell unpleasantly on the probable consequences of any trifling error or lack of balance. Safely over, I found myself at the bottom of a precipitous tower, plastered and piled up with snow and ice. Direct ascent was out of the question, but by craning one's neck round the tower a ledge, partly rock and partly ice, could be seen running round the head of a great gully that falls away towards the Charpoua glacier. To reach this shelf it was necessary to traverse the snow-plastered face of the tower. Happily, Hastings found a hitch for the rope, and relying to some extent on the doubtful security so afforded, I leant round, and, with the axe in the left hand, made some slight notches in the wall. A gap was then hacked out of the snow and ice above, into which the rope was carefully tucked, so that it might be above me should anything unforeseen occur. For one step my adhesion to the cliff was somewhat doubtful, and I have a very clear remembrance of my inability to get the right leg round an awkward bulge without throwing what seemed an undue strain on a handhold carefully carved out of the fragile snow above. However, cheered by encouraging remarks from Hastings, who always knows how to inspire the leader with confidence, the bulge was passed, and a comparatively simple piece of step-cutting brought us to the shelf. This in turn led us back to the ridge.
We were soon again forced off it, and had to
